


Palvelus

by ThoseDaysThatWill



Series: The Organizations [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Organized Crime, Angst, Dallas Stars, Gen, Implied Drug Use, Lots of Angst, M/M, Smoking, emotionally stunted idiots, implied assault, implied nondescript violence, implied offscreen murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-05-18 23:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseDaysThatWill/pseuds/ThoseDaysThatWill
Summary: "You've got me curious. Why have you wanted to talk to us?" He gave an easy smile, leaning back in his chair, as if high ranking Swedes always sat down at his table to chat with him. Miro didn't feel even one ounce of the casualness that Roope was showing, but then he didn't think Roope really felt it either. He was just a better actor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt, from a lovely anon, was the first two lines of this piece and a request for Roope and Miro. I don't know why my brain took it here, but this is what happened. I'm sorry, anon, if this isn't exactly what you were expecting. 
> 
> ETA: This fic is now _just_ the Roope (and Miro, and John, and...) storyline. The other two parts that used to be here, will soon be their own fics, with more detail.

“What on earth were you thinking?! Never do that again.” Miro’s eyes shifted between the road ahead of them and the rearview mirror. No one was following them, at least that he could tell. And usually the Russians didn’t bother to be subtle. They probably would have shot out his tires by now if they wanted to stop them.

Roope didn’t answer him, his attention was on the gun in his hands, checking it over. He hadn't had to fire it, but it was always best to be sure everything was in working order, just in case. It wasn’t until he’d reholstered it that he glanced over to the driver’s side of the car. A smirk played on his lips, “Were you really worried about me?”

Miro rolled his eyes, “Of course not. Why would I be? You just walked yourself _alone_ into what turned out to be a den of Russians to deliver a package that you don’t even know what it contained and instead of just walking out without saying a _word_ with your Finnish accent, like any sane person would do in that situation, you decided to _flirt_ with a _Russian_ so much that another _Russian_ got _so angry_ that he drew his gun. And _then_ instead of just leaving, you drew _your_ gun and had to have some _Canadian_ guy step in and _order_ you out before World War III started in that bar while I'm sitting here waiting for you!” He had probably never said so much at once in as long as he'd known Roope, but it had all needed to be said. 

“I just smiled at him. _He_ flirted with _me_.” Roope pointed out, not even trying to hide his grin or show remorse.

Miro took in a slow deep breath and shot him a glare that would have dropped him right there if looks could kill. He put his eyes back on the road and stepped down harder on the gas. There was no point in trying to convince Roope he did anything wrong, he never listened.

Roope leaned back in the seat, “We got the job done, that’s what matters.” 

Miro didn't reply to that either. It wasn't his idea to partner with Roope in the first place. The boss had ordered him to come out to this foreign city just to drive the guy around in a car that neither of them could have actually afforded. If he had his choice, he would have turned the assignment down. But of course, no one said no to the boss and lived to tell tale of it. The boss couldn't run an Organization without that kind of unquestioning respect from his underlings, they all understood. And because he was young and new to the organization, Miro got the worst kind of jobs. Roope, who was fairly new himself, already had a reputation of getting into the kind of trouble that had nothing to do with the mission at hand, so being his getaway driver could be dangerous. So far, they got out of everything perfectly safely, but that could turn on a dime. 

"We can go back to the hotel, unless you're hungry." Roope was watching out the window as he spoke, almost as if he was looking for something. 

Miro shrugged, "I could eat." 

"That Italian place? You liked the food the last time." 

Miro nodded, even though Roope wasn't looking at him. He probably heard the sigh, but he didn't respond to it. Miro knew exactly what restaurant he meant and he didn't choose it because of the food. He knew full well that one of the Swedish underbosses who had staked a claim in the city, favored that place, but the owner (who was Canadian) had declared it to be neutral territory. All that meant was that everyone tried to listen in to everyone else's conversations, but no one could make a move. People still went there, because the food really was that good. They were just careful to only speak their own language, and oftentime in code even then. He turned into the parking lot and took a space close to the door, pulling into the spot backwards, just in case. When Roope didn't get out right away, Miro looked over to him with a raised eyebrow. 

He was looking at Miro with a smile quirking his lips, "You _really_ were worried, weren't you?" He asked, genuinely. 

Miro rolled his eyes, "I just didn't want to have to explain to the boss why we didn't complete the assignment." 

Roope smiled, "You're getting to like me, aren't you?" 

He shook his head, getting out of the car. There was nothing in the world that would ever get Miro to admit that to him. At least not yet, not ever probably. 

Roope took the lead walking into the restaurant and he wasn't surprised. There were a few reasons behind that, but mostly it was the fact that if they were walking into anything dangerous, Roope had more experience getting himself out of it quickly. He had an eye for that kind of thing. Miro could admit that sometimes he missed the more subtle things that Roope always picked up, but he was learning.

"Mr. Hintz, how _nice_ to see you. How many in your party?" The maitre'd announced, in English, purposefully just a little too loud. 

Miro knew sometimes stealth was his best weapon, but there was no way that was ever going to happen in this place. It was purposefully set up like that. There weren't booths, just tables, and none of them were close to the walls. Anyone sitting down to eat had to trust that those around him would abide by the owner's rules of neutrality. The food was good, but it wasn't _that_ good. But by being announced, and sitting with your back to other tables, it was a way of saying that you were too important, or too connected, for anyone to hit you so brazenly. At least that's what you wanted everyone in the place to believe. Usually, it was true. And when it wasn't, it was worth the bluff.

Roope nodded with a small smile, responding in English, "Thank you. Just the two of us."

They were shown to a table to the left of the kitchen doors. Roope had some swagger, some attitude, but he didn't yet have enough clout to get a really prominent table in place like this. The fact he could _get_ a table at all was enough right now. The maitre'd chatted with Roope about the specials, as Miro looked around the place. There weren't many people, it was still early for dinner, and late for lunch. But true to form, as they both expected, two tables away was a small group of Swedes. All eyes at that table were focused on one of them, who seemed to be talking about the glass of wine in his hand. Miro didn't understand Swedish, but he could read body language well enough. The man holding up the glass was the one with all the power at that table.

Once they were alone, Roope's eyes followed Miro's to the other table, back to speaking Finnish, "I wonder how many meals a week he eats here." 

Miro shrugged, "Most of them, I guess. It's not like he can't afford it."

Roope rolled his eyes, "That's not the point. It's so _flashy_. But what else should you expect from a Swede?" 

Miro didn't reply. Honestly, he didn't really know what to expect from a Swede. He hadn't known any personally, but he could understand that they were a rival Organization and whatever he meant by that, the purpose was to be as dismissive as possible towards them. He wondered if Roope honestly knew what to expect from a Swede either, but he didn't say that, he just nodded. Roope was older than him, but not _that_ much older. 

"What are you in the mood for?" He asked, looking over the menu. 

Miro glanced at the menu and frowned. It was in English, of course. He could understand most of the language, speak enough to get by, but he couldn't read more than a word here or there. He tried, but it just didn't make sense. The boss had sent them to Texas just over four months ago, and that hadn't been enough time to learn by immersion. He hoped they weren't going to be there long enough to learn more, but their successes lately made him worry. All the European Organizations were staking claims in the United States, and they were Finland's scouting party in this very strange place. They've been listening to what other Organizations were doing, passing that information back to the boss, and acting on the resulting orders. Every so often, they'd get a package to deliver to one place or another. Today's package had been meant for a contact who worked in a downtown bar. Unfortunately, on this particular day the bar was filled with Russians. Considering how much at odds their two groups were, it went fairly well. 

"Something with chicken and no tomatoes." Miro told him, letting him figure out what that meant for the menu in front of him. 

Roope considered the offerings, "How about--" 

He was interrupted by a voice from their right, English but with a heavy accent, "Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've been wanting to talk to you, and this seems like a good opportunity. May I?" The Swede gestured to the empty chair beside Miro. 

Roope looked at him for a long moment and then nodded, speaking slow and careful English, "Please do." 

The man sat and folded his hands on the table. That was a traditional sign that he wanted to talk peacefully. If he was there to threaten them physically, he'd have his hands in his lap, where he could quickly draw his gun. By sitting close to the table, and folding his hands together, he was showing that he didn't intend to draw down on them. It didn't make Miro relax any, though. He didn't need a gun to threaten them, if he really wanted to. 

"My name is John. And I'm sure you have figured out by now that I am from Sweden." He held his hand out to Roope to shake, which he did. For some strange reason, he was talking like they wouldn't know exactly who he was, but if he wanted to play the game that way, they would play along with him. 

"I am Roope. This is Miro. But you must already know that." His tone was friendly, but cool. John offered his hand to Miro as he was introduced. Miro shook his hand but let Roope control the conversation. "You've got me curious. Why have you wanted to talk to us?" He gave an easy smile, leaning back in his chair, as if high ranking Swedes always sat down at his table to chat with him. Miro didn't feel even one ounce of the casualness that Roope was showing, but then he didn't think Roope really felt it either. He was just a better actor. 

John sighed, looking as if he wanted to say anything other than the next words that came out of his mouth. "I need your help." 

Roope's eyebrows rose, betraying his faux calm, "You do?" 

"I'm afraid so." He smiled, "I don't mean that how it sounds. I have been here, in Dallas, for a few years now. What do you think of it?"

Roope glanced to Miro and then back to John, "It is a nice city." He said, noncommittally. "We're comfortable." 

John nodded, "I understand. Do you drink wine? I could order us a bottle."

"If you want." Roope shrugged. He didn't look to Miro, but they both knew the waiter wasn't about to card anyone sitting at a table full of armed mobsters.

John raised a hand, waving down the waiter, and ordered a bottle of something Miro had never heard of. Granted he didn't know the first thing about wine, but he was sure he was supposed to be impressed with either his taste or how much he was going to spend. Either way, he wasn't, and he had a feeling that he wasn't going to like the wine, but he was going to have to pretend he was actually drinking it as not to insult him. Diplomacy really wasn't his thing. Right now he was pretty much just a driver and he was currently wishing he had waited in the car. 

John sighed again, "We both know that the Organizations are starting to stake claims here in the States and this has caused some _friction_ between countries." He paused, looking between them, but neither Roope nor Miro gave away a thing. He shook his head, "Please, Mr. Hintz, we're never going to get anything done if we don't put our cards on the table." 

Roope looked to Miro, speaking Finnish, "What do you think?" 

Before Miro could reply, John spoke up, in halting Finnish, "I can understand some." 

Roope frowned, returning to English. "Thank you for being honest." 

John shrugged, "I'm asking for your help. I'm not going to start that by spying on you. However, if you'd like to speak privately, I do need to make a phone call, if you wouldn't mind me stepping outside. Feel free to pour the wine when it comes." He stood, without another word, and walked outside, taking out his phone as he went.

As soon as the door closed, Miro groaned. He spoke in Finnish, even though they were alone, "This is going to be trouble." 

Roope was smirking, and also reverted to their native language, "Oh yeah. But we have to listen to what he has to say." 

"Should we tell the boss what's going on?" Miro asked.

Roope quickly shook his head, "We'll tell him after. You're going to back me up on this, right?" 

"Of course. Wait. Back you up on _what?"_ Miro looked at him skeptically. 

Roope laughed, "See, that's what I love about you. You had no idea what I was planning but you were ready to go with it. I _knew_ l was right about you. I told the boss that you're ready for the field, that you're older than your years. I was right. You just proved it." 

Miro smiled a little, and he knew his cheeks was flushing pink. He couldn't help but replay in his mind that first comment he made, but of course he wasn't going to say anything about it. Not then. Probably not ever. He just nodded, "What's your plan?" 

Roope's grin grew and he winked, "Just follow my lead." He picked up the bottle that had been placed on the table and poured his and Miro's glasses half-full. 

Miro picked the glass up and brought it close to his lips. To him, red wine smelled like rancid grapes and it gave him headaches. He put the glass down. He'd drink it when John was at the table, only because he had to. There was no point in torturing himself now. 

Roope shrugged after taking a sip, "It's not very good wine." 

"There's _good_ wine?" Miro countered.  Roope laughed, but didn't reply as John rejoined the table and poured his own glass full.

"Did I miss something funny?" John asked, sipping from his glass. 

Roope nodded, "My friend doesn't care for your wine." 

So much for being subtle about the wine thing. "I just don't care for wine in _general_." 

John shrugged, "I understand it isn't too popular in Finland. Would you rather Kossu?" 

Miro wasn't positive if that was supposed to be an insult or not, but either way, he shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you."

Roope laughed, "You can ask me the same question. I'd prefer it to this wine, honestly."

John gave him a smile, "Perhaps later, we'll go out to a place where that sort of thing is appropriate. But business before pleasure." 

"If we must." Roope sipped from his glass, watching John with that subtly critical look that Miro knew meant he was sizing him up. If that was the lead he was supposed to follow, it wasn't going to work. Roope didn't look intimidating on the outset, but he could turn on this mode where you _knew_ , anyone looking at him _knew_ , that he could kill you and not so much as knock a hair out of place. Miro had a lot of thoughts about that look, but he kept them all to himself. He was hoping he wouldn't see it tonight. Not that he didn't like it, but he didn't want to explain to the boss why they'd started a war with Sweden. 

"It won't take too long. Let me get right down to it. I have a friend, a _good_ friend, who is a member of your organization." John paused, watching for a reaction. 

Roope slowly raised one eyebrow, "You have a Finnish friend? How do your _associates_ feel about that?" 

John shook his head, "They don't care for the idea. Neither do yours. That's where you come in. My friend was called back to Finland, and I haven't been able to contact him. If you could pass a message along, I'd owe you a _personal_   _favor_." 

Miro knew full well that having a favor from an organization as powerful as Sweden, and specifically from a person as important as him, in their pocket could be very helpful. They might be rivals and enemies, but that was just on national principle. They weren't the real threat to Finland, Russia was. And to have Sweden back them on something in the face of Russia would be very helpful. Especially as they were carving up the States. Miro looked over to Roope and saw that the same thoughts were flitting through his head. 

"Who is this friend?" He asked. 

John frowned, "Well, that is where the problem lies. I'm sure you know that you're not the first Finnish scouting party to come here to Texas." 

"I assumed so. Who?" Roope pressed. 

"Esa Lindell." There was something in John's voice when he said the name, but Miro couldn't put a word to it.

Roope sat up straighter, "You're kidding, right? Do I look crazy to you?" 

"I understand your concern. I understand that Esa has certain _friends_ back in Finland that weren't happy about his liaisons here. But that's why I came to you. If anyone can get close to him, to talk to him, you could. I've looked into you and I know you have the connections." John's tone was taking a slightly desperate edge to it, in his rush of words, any words he thought would convince Roope. 

Roope liked having his ego stroked and seemed to relax at the comment. "Yes, I have connections. But why would I use them for you?" 

"Having a personal favor from me in your pocket is useful, we both know that. But if that's not enough, I can pay you as well." John was starting to look nervous. "You only have to name your price."

That was _too much_ desperation. Miro leaned close to Roope, "We need to talk. _Alone_." 

Roope nodded without looking at him. "Give me your number and we'll be in touch." He told John, with an air of authority that he didn't really have. He turned his phone towards John, with a blank contact form up, though he didn't allow him to hold the device. After John typed the number in, Roope gave him a nod, "You'll hear from us."  

John stood up, "I look forward to that." He spoke to the waiter, "Please put their meal on my tab." With a nod of his own at both Roope and Miro, he walked out the door, not so much as glancing back at the Swedes he left waiting at his table. They quickly got up and followed him out. 

Once the door closed behind him, Miro groaned, "How do you always get into situations like this?" 

Roope smirked at him, "I'm just that good." He laughed and then shook his head, "You have to admit that having his personal favor could do a lot for us. Not to mention the influx of cash could be useful."

"Yeah, and passing a message along to someone like that from someone like him could also get us killed." Miro pointed out, logically. "What are you going to do with a favor and money from your grave?"

Roope scoffed, "What's life without a little danger?"

"Safer?" Miro suggested. "We don't want to get in the middle of this." 

He waved that off, "It's worth it. Besides, you heard his tone just like I did. This isn't organizational, it's not business. It's personal. John fucking Klingberg has a Finnish _boyfriend_ and he's close to one of the underbosses in the capital. And he's asking for _our_ help to get to him. So if we could have Sweden in our pocket and plenty of extra cash, just for delivering a few love letters, why wouldn't we do it?" 

"It's idiotic, that's why. I mean, I agree that's why he's asking. It was all over his voice, but what's idiotic is getting in the middle of some Romeo and Juliet thing across our countries. And with two people as powerful as they are! Lindell was here before us, trying to do what we are doing here. And with his clout, he could have done it a lot easier than we can. And the boss called him back to Finland because what if he found out about him and the Swede and now you want to defy that order. And you think you can get a message to someone that is obviously locked down _so_ tightly that his own people can't get messages out? You are crazy enough to probably get yourself killed sending Swedish love letters and you don't see why that's a bad idea?! Roope, that's _insane_  even for you. You can't do that." 

Roope never took his eyes off him as he ranted, "Are you done?"

Miro took in a deep breath, "I think so." 

He sighed, "Everything you said is right. But..."

"You're still going to do it." Miro didn't even bother to phrase that as a question. 

Roope nodded, "I'm going to do it. But if you don't want to get involved, I understand." 

Miro's shoulders dropped, "I said I'd back you up and I meant it. No matter how insane your plan is." 

A slow smile spread across his face, "See, I _was_ right about you. I was right about _us._ We're a perfect team."

Miro sighed, but maybe the corners of his lips curled up, just a little.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning is from a previously posted chapter, the rest is new.
> 
> (If anyone gets notifications from this, yes, I did delete and repost. It's all set now.)

"So... are you going to call the boss?" Miro asked, from where he was leaning against the headboard of his bed.

Roope was stretched out on top of his bed, having just showered. He hadn't bothered to put on more than a pair of shorts and Miro knew full well that if he _asked_ him to get dressed, he'd never hear the end of it. So all he could do was try not to stare, which was pretty much impossible. He'd turned the TV on and opened his laptop, but American shows talked too fast for him to understand and he didn't have any new email, so neither of those things helped at all. Which left his attention to wander to the man on the other bed.

They'd been living out of this room for months now. It was a nice enough hotel, but having to stay in the same room wasn't his idea. It was fine in the beginning, but it was starting to wear on Miro as the weeks went on. At least, he told himself, there were two beds. He couldn't have handled anything else and not made a complete ass of himself. Roope was so out of his league and he was all too aware of it.

Roope shrugged, "He'll flip if we tell him. Might as well shoot Esa ourselves, because the boss isn't going to let him live knowing he's made nice with a Swede. Especially _that_ Swede, from _that_ family. Esa might be high ranking, but he doesn't have a _name_ that's important enough to save his ass. A name can let you get away with anything. Power only takes you so far."

Miro nodded, but didn't say anything. All of that was true, even he knew that much. What Roope said without saying, though, was that if _they_ were caught knowing what they knew without telling, it'd be them in the gunsights, instead of Esa. Neither of them had a name _or_ power. It was a no-win scenario, unless they did what John had asked without getting caught. He didn't know the odds of that happening, but he didn't like it.

"We have two options." Roope said, voicing Miro's thoughts, "We do what Klingberg asks, get paid, and have his favor in our pocket. We'd also have Esa's favor, too, because we'd know something about him that he wouldn't want to get out. Of course, that paints a huge target on us, both from Esa and the Swede, because we know what we know. If we tell the boss, he's glad to know that one of his high ranking guys is in bed with a Swede, which raises us up in the ranks. But it also means Esa is dead. And probably Klingberg, too, if the boss tells his people." Roope's eyes were on the ceiling through the whole explanation, as if he could see the possibly scenes happening in front of him. By his expression, he didn't really like either option.

"Either way... we're in trouble. Because if we're the reason that Esa gets killed, his people are going to come after _us_ , not Klingberg. The Swede knew that too. No matter what we decide, we're in the middle of it because we _know,_ and we can't unknow. And if we don't do what he wants, either we die because we knew and didn't tell, or we die because we knew and told. We're screwed either way, unless we help him and don't get caught doing it." Miro sighed, "I guess his reputation is earned."

Roope snorted a laugh, "Swedes are treacherous, never forget that."

Miro nodded. "I didn't think they were like _that_. Russians, sure. But I just thought the Swede-Finn thing was..."

"History?" Roope scoffed, "No, it's not. They're a bunch of self-righteous assholes, who don't care about anybody but their own."

Miro didn't say anything to that. Every Organization only cared about their own, he didn't see what made the Swedes so different in that, but there wasn't anything to be gained by pointing that out to Roope. And he couldn't blame him, at least now, for trash talking the Swedes. But he wondered if his opinion was personal or just rumor, before they'd gotten in the middle of this. He sighed, "So what do we do?"

Roope sat up and looked over to him, "We don't have a choice. We have to help him, and make sure that no one finds out. Or if they do, that we eliminate them before they can rat on us. Any other way you look at it, we're dead." He flashed a smirk, "And I'm just getting started here with you, I'm not ready to cash it all in."

Miro's cheeks flushed and he snapped his eyes to the TV. Despite the life-or-death situation they were talking about, there was a part of his brain that was completely and totally focused on that smirk and the implications of it. He tried to focus on the job at hand, but Roope wasn't about to let him calm down once he caught sight of his reaction. This wasn't the first time he'd done this to him, but he'd always backed off at the last moment. Miro didn't look at him as he moved over to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Hey... we need to talk about this." Roope's voice was quiet, his smirk faded.

Miro looked up at him as a thousand thoughts flashed through his mind. _Talk about what?!_ He must mean the job. He has to mean the job. There is a lot to think about there but... the look on his face, that wasn't about the job and Miro well knew it. His cheeks heated but he forced himself not to look away. He was sure he was breathing too fast, but at the same time, he couldn't fully catch his breath. That didn't make sense, nothing made sense. He didn't say anything, he didn't know what to say. And then, Roope leaned forward and kissed him.

All thoughts went out of his head completely. And it would be _many_ hours before he had any semblance of coherent thought.

 

"You're finally awake. I have our plan all set." 

Miro blinked a few times and quickly decided his eyes still wanted to be closed. Roope might have claimed he was awake, but his brain heartily disagreed. He tried to roll over but only succeeded in knocking into Roope, who was, he discovered, laying next to him in his bed. He flopped back to his back and forced his eyes to open. Judging on the smirk on Roope's face, it hadn't all been a dream. Understanding this, his brain finally allowed all the memories to wash over him all at once, and he did all he could not to moan. Despite what he had said, they hadn't _talked_ about anything, but he could deal with that later. Roope had said something about a plan. But in order to process anything properly, he had to put all the sensations and memories back in the box where they belonged. After a deep breath, he figured out how to school his face properly. "What's our plan?" He asked, sounding much less groggy than he felt. 

Roope laughed, "If you're going to pass out like that every time we fuck, I'm going to have to time it a _lot_ better." 

Miro sighed, but managed to give him a disapproving look rather than an embarrassed one, which he was quite proud of. "Our _plan_?" He repeated. 

"Hey, don't give me that look. You think this is going to be a one time thing?" He leaned over, placing a teasingly light kiss to Miro's chest before flicking his eyes up in a look that was utterly unfair, "I told you, I'm not done with you yet." 

Miro reached up to brush his hair out of his face, and-- _god,_ he was so beautiful. It wasn't fair. Part of his brain told him that he _had_ to ask the boss for another partner, because Roope was distracting to the point of madness, while the other part was telling him that he couldn't ever let him go. He sighed, giving his hair a short tug, " _Roope_." 

He smirked, "Mmmhmm, just like that." 

Miro rolled his eyes, sliding his hands out of his hair. That would help both of them concentrate. "The _plan?"_

Roope huffed, but sat up, "Fine, _business_." He took in a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh, "I know someone, who knows someone, who knows Esa Lindell. And I could call him. But... it's going to cost us." He sighed again, "It's going to cost me more than you." 

Miro sat up, sliding back to lean against the headboard. He thought about grabbing the sheet, but he knew that would only start Roope again, and distract him from the rest of the story. "How much?" 

Roope laughed, without humor, "My pride? My dignity? Not that I have much of either left." 

"You used to--" Miro cut himself off at Roope's sharp look.

"It was a living." He shrugged, "My.... ex? I guess you could say that." He looked over to Miro to see if he was going to correct it, but Miro didn't say a word. Of course he knew (or thought he knew) exactly who and what this 'ex' had been, but there was no reason to bring _that_ up. Before they joined up, day to day living hadn't been easy for any of them. They'd all done things to get by that they weren't proud of. And truth be told, they were at the boss' whim of going back there, too. The money they made was good, but jobs, the apartments, the cars were all doled out by the boss' favor and that was a fickle thing. Roope kept talking when Miro didn't, "He's here, in the States. On a mission of his own."

"He's in?" Miro asked with surprise. 

Roope nodded, "We joined up at the same time. The business was hard. This is easier. _Safer._ " 

Miro gave him an incredulous look, "You don't get _shot_ at in the business." 

Roope laughed, but it was an ugly, painful laugh, "You have no idea." He gave him a much gentler smile, "And that's a good thing."

Miro shook his head, reaching out to just rest his hand on top of Roope's. He knew he was supposed to say something, but he had no idea what the right words were. He had been... he supposed pining was the right word.. pining for Roope for months, and now that they'd been together, his emotions were all mixed up. It was supposed to be a 'maybe never' kind of thing, Roope was the guy that you watched and admired, and _wanted,_ but never had. But Miro had him, and he didn't know what to do with him. And it wasn't as if he could ask, because he was _supposed_ to know. Roope never second-guessed himself like that, and Miro had to pretend he didn't either, at least until he could figure things out. "You don't have to call him." 

Roope turned his hand over and curled his fingers around Miro's hand, "Yes, I do. We have no other option. Klingberg himself said I have the connections, that's why he asked us. That's why we're in this spot, because I _can_ call him, and if he's going to help anyone, he'll help me." Roope was looking so intently at him that Miro felt his cheeks flush. "It will be fine. But... I'd like to call him alone. I can go sit down in the car, or..."

Miro shook his head, "I'll go out. Call me when you're done?"

Roope smiled, leaning in to kiss him. This one, though, wasn't like the first time he kissed him. Miro didn't understand why, but he could feel it all the same. "Don't forget..." Roope whispered against his lips, "I'm not done with you yet."

Miro smiled, pressing another kiss to his lips at the same time he squeezed his hand. He felt Roope return both gestures. As he dressed, he was aware of Roope's eyes on him, but he didn't look back at him until he was standing at the door. He couldn't help but wonder if this would all be the same when he got back. 

. . . . 

Roope looked at his phone for a long silent moment. It had been _years_. He'd kept track of him, of course. But he'd kept track of all of them, he told himself. Sami could be counted on to know where everyone was at any given moment, and Roope never had to actually ask him. If he heard something, he'd just pass the information along. He understood. They had gone through it all together, they'd left together, and they'd joined together. They all understood each other, much more than anyone else would. Much more than someone like Miro ever could. He wasn't sure, though, if that was a good thing or not. Maybe sometimes he didn't want to be so understood.

He passed over the contact he'd been staring at and slid down the alphabet to choose another. This time it was easy to press send.

"I gave up a tail to answer this, it better be good." Jesse's voice wasn't angry, though. It never was. Maybe even when it should have been.

Roope sighed, "No, it's not good. Are you home?"

"Yeah, the boss has me tracking down small-times. It's boring, but it pays. I hear you're on one of the scouting missions." If he sounded a little jealous, it was very intentional.

"Yeah, I'm in Texas. And in trouble. You have a minute to talk?" Roope asked.

Jesse made a surprised sound, and Roope couldn't blame him. It wasn't like him to _admit_ he was in deep, even if he was. But this wasn't organizational, he didn't have to put the front up about this, at least not with Jesse. At least not this time. "Yeah, give me a minute to get back to my car." Roope could hear his feet hitting the pavement, which probably meant he was running. It wasn't a minute later that he said, "Okay, what's up? Who can I shoot?"

Roope laughed, and felt some of the sick feeling that was coiling in his stomach fade away. Yes, he picked the right friend to call alright. The feeling wasn't gone completely, but it eased, and that's all he was looking for. "Me. It's my own fault."

Jesse scoffed, "It's always our own faults, We can still blame someone else and shoot them."

Roope snorted, "I'll keep that in mind. Have you heard from anyone recently?"

"You mean have I heard from _him?"_ Jesse didn't mince words.

He sighed, "Have you?"

"No. Sami said he's one of the ones that got sent, though. Not where you are, I asked that." Jesse was loyal to the end of the world and back, but he didn't have an ounce of verbal subtle in his body. "I figure it's his last chance to fly right before the boss cuts him loose."

Roope sighed, "He's still...."

Jesse made an affirmative sound, "Last I heard. But that's nothing new. Is that your trouble?"

"No. Well, yes and no. I ran into Swedish trouble." Roope admitted, adding quickly, "But you didn't hear that from me."

"I didn't hear nothing. But how are you dealing with a Swede? Your Swedish sucks." Jesse pointed out, with a smirk Roope could hear.

He scoffed, "In English."

Jesse groaned, "That's not much better."

Roope rolled his eyes. Jesse might not have been able to see him, but he had a feeling he still knew. "Are you done?"

"Mmm... yes." He laughed a little. "So can we shoot the Swede?"

"No. Not yet anyway. If we do end up having to, I'll call you. I can't say anything else about it. I just needed to clear my head and you're good for that." Roope admitted. "I know what I have to do now."

"One of my many services. Before you go. The kid? Did you fuck him yet?" Jesse asked.

Roope laughed, "Yeah, of course."

"When?" He pressed.

"Last night. He was _dessert_."

"Damn! Missed it by a fucking day." Jesse grumbled.

"There was a betting pool? Fuckers!" Roope rolled his eyes, "Who did it?"

Jesse verbally waved that off, "Like you have to ask. You couldn't have held off one more day? I could have used that money."

Roope tisked, "If you had _told_ me, I could have set it up for you."

"We weren't supposed to tell you." He admitted.

Roope scoffed, "That's what you get for following the rules. I've gotta go. Thanks, Jes'."

"Anytime." He hung up. And Roope was back to staring at his phone, but at least feeling a little better about it now.

After pulling on a pair of shorts, Roope walked out to the balcony. The near-dawn air was much warmer than the air conditioned room, but cooler than he expected. He sat in the lounge chair and put his feet up on the railing. He may have looked casual, but the emotions were rolling around in his stomach again. This time, he didn't give himself a chance to back out, pressing the contact the moment he laid eyes on it. It rang three times before he answered.

"Hello?"

Roope didn't expect his voice to hit him like that, and he didn't reply right away.

"Hintz?"

The laugh came out before he could stop himself, but his tone was bitter and cold, "Is that what we are, _Aho?"_

Sebastian sighed heavily, "What do you want?"

Roope took in a deep breath, "I need a favor."

Sebastian scoffed, harsh and full of scorn, "Are you serious? You think I'd do anything _else_ for you? You have balls to even call me! You owe me favors for the rest of your life. You couldn't begin to pay back what you owe me and you're asking me for _another_ favor? You owe _me!"_

"I know I do." Roope keep his voice even, careful not to return the spiteful tone Sebastian was throwing at him.

If Roope closed his eyes, he could picture that day-- that _moment_ \-- so clearly. The decision to pull the trigger was his, but he had no choice. On the streets, it's you or them, and he wanted to survive more than anything else. He could still see Sebastian's wide eyes when he found him in the alley, crouched down beside the dead body. In the days before they joined up, they didn't know how to deal with things like that. Roope knew he had a long record already and he was too close to eighteen, both strikes told him a life sentence was likely. It had been Sebastian's idea. He looked younger, he'd tell them he was fifteen, and he had a _mostly_ clean record. He'd take the fall. The sentence would be much shorter, he'd claim self-defense. He could handle it, it'd be five years, maybe even less. The siren sounds were getting closer, they had to decide right then and there. Roope kissed him, long and deep, the last time he'd kissed him. And then he ran.Sebastian served seven years. He came out with a habit and wanting nothing to do with Roope. They hadn't spoken since then.

Neither of them said a word. Finally, Sebastian broke the silence, but this time his tone was much softer, his voice quiet, "What do you want?"

Roope felt a shiver go up his spine, very much against his will. "I need some contacts."

"Mmhmm, who?" Sebastian's voice betrayed no emotions.

That he was willing to listen was honestly more than Roope expected, so he kept going, "Teräväinen."

Sebastian barked a humorless laugh, "He's not going to talk to _you_."

Roope knew he'd have to tell him more or he'd lose even the slim chance he had of getting his help. Teuvo didn't talk to many people, at least many people that lived to tell the tale. He was a member of the same very tight, very closed inner circle Esa ran with, but somehow he'd made friends with Sebastian in prison. Rumors circulated that if anything were to happen to him, it would make Teuvo _very_ angry, and that alone was enough to keep Sebastian safe. The rumors disagreed on if he was trying to help Sebastian kick his habit or was keeping him hooked. Either way, they were still close on the outside.

Roope took in a deep breath and took a chance, "I need to get a message to Esa Lindell."

Sebastian was silent for a long moment, and then he let out a breath in one long puff, "Klingberg got to you."

Roope couldn't help but laugh. He didn't have to ask how he knew. "Yeah, he's got us screwed up against the wall."

"So the message goes from Klingberg to you to me to Teukka to Esa? And no one is going to get wind of that?" He asked, incredulously.

Roope scoffed, "I'm not going to say anything, you're not going to say anything, Klingberg and Lindell won't say anything, the only weak link is _Teukka_." He was surprised at the amount of venom in his voice at the nickname.

"He saved my life when I was inside. Don't say his name like that." Sebastian snapped. "He did more for me than you did."

Roope sighed, "I did everything I could. You stopped taking my calls. What was I supposed to do?"

"Nothing. I can't help you." The anger was gone from his voice, he sounded almost numb.

Roope's shoulders dropped, but he carefully kept every ounce of emotion out of his voice, "I understand. I had to try."

Sebastian was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was very soft, a whisper, "Roope... do you miss me?"

Roope sighed deeply. In the seconds before he answered, his brain warred with the ideas of lying or telling the truth. In the end, he decided if anything, Sebastian deserved more than a lie. If he was going to be scored, he wanted to be scorned for the truth. "Every day since the last time I kissed you."

Sebastian hummed softly, " _Good_." He said. And then he hung up. 


	3. Chapter 3

Roope knew, after coming back from dinner that night, that he was supposed to be surprised to walk into their hotel room to find Sebastian sitting on the couch. He wasn't, though. Miro drew his gun right away, pointed it at the 'intruder', but Roope's hand didn't so much as twitch. Before he could see him clearly, he knew he was there, he knew it was him. And he wasn't startled. He would have been much more surprised if he _hadn't_ broken in. He put a hand out towards Miro, a signal to put the gun away, but never for a second took his eyes off Sebastian.

Almost in slow motion, Sebastian flicked his eyes up to him and brought the cigarette to his lips. He held his eyes tight as he slowly exhaled the stream of smoke directly at him. Roope nearly winced at _that_ smell. The slightly sweet tinge of his particular brand smelled like he had tasted, and at once he was thirteen and experiencing his first kiss that was shared out of love; he was fifteen and desperate for one more kiss before they had to go to work; he was seventeen and kissing him for what he didn't know would be the last time. He breathed it in deeply.

The silence hung in the air, and for much too long, no one moved. It was so quiet they could hear the very faint crackle of the embers on the end of the cigarette as Sebastian inhaled. The smoke seemed to curl around Roope, the smell so familiar, so comforting, and at the same time, cruel and mocking. His stomach knotted up, but for just a moment, he allowed it all to overwhelm him.

Finally, it was Sebastian that shattered the stillness, "Tell him to leave. We need to talk." His tone was cold, clipped, and sharp. It was an order, not a request. If he was still part of their crew, he had no standing to order him like that, but if he was working with Teuvo now, he did. The tone of his voice, like he expected to be obeyed, made the knot pull tighter.

Roope turned to face Miro, putting his back to Sebastian. He gave what he hoped looked like an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "We need his help. Please trust me." He reached out to take Miro's hand, noticing that his gun was still in the other hand, though at his side. "I'll tell you everything. I promise."

Miro held his eyes for just a moment, as if he was looking for something. Roope wasn't sure what it was, or if he'd found it, because his face was expressionless when he nodded, "I'm going to get another room." Miro re-holstered his gun, and wrapped both of his hands around Roope's. His voice was soft, even for him, "I'll come back when you're done." He leaned in and placed a very soft, very gentle kiss to his lips. When he pulled back, his cheeks were bright pink, but there was the very hint of a smile. "Be careful."

Roope felt himself starting to smile too, "I'm still not done with you."

Miro nodded once, but said nothing, before picking up his go bag and closing the door behind him.

"That was very touching." Sebastian's tone was dry, but tired, though Roope was sure no one but him could hear that. Sebastian held out the pack of cigarettes, "Smoke?"

Roope nodded and crossed the rest of the distance to take one from the pack. The feeling and taste of the unlit cigarette between his lips was jarring, strange and familiar all at once, but the first drag after he used the offered light was exactly as heady as it always had been. He held the smoke in a moment longer than necessary, before blowing it out towards the ceiling. "Am I supposed to ask you why you're here?"

Sebastian scoffed, "That would be polite."

Roope sat on the coffee table, facing him. There was just enough room between them that their knees didn't touch, but not nearly enough room not to feel it anyway. "Okay, why are you here?"

Sebastian sighed, before taking a long drag, letting the smoke wrap around both of them, "I wanted to forget you. Teukka said that's the best way to survive in there, you have to forget everything outside. But I couldn't. So I decided I would blame you for everything I went through inside, so I could hate you. For a little while, I convinced myself that I did. I told myself that you never loved me. That you used me. You were living the life you wanted, and I was in a cage for something you did. The heroin helped convince me that I was right." Roope's eyes strayed to the crook of his elbow, the track marks looked healed over, but he knew that didn't mean much. As far as he could tell, he wasn't high right then, and that was what mattered. He heard a dark chuckle from Sebastian and snapped his eyes back up to meet his. "Looking for fresh marks? Not going to find any. I don't use anymore." He ground out the butt out in an empty glass on the coffee table, "Too expensive on the outside. Not the same currency out here." He lit up a fresh cigarette. "I was cutting into his profits too much because I still expected him to give it to me for the same... _price_."

Roope raised an eyebrow, "He sells? The boss doesn't allow that." If he was supposed to be surprised about the _price_ , he wasn't. They'd been using that to get what they wanted for nearly as long as he could remember.

Sebastian gave a short humorless laugh, "He doesn't care. The money is worth it." 

Roope took a last drag from the cigarette before tossing it in the glass, using the pause to settle his thoughts down. "You still haven't told me why you're here." He pointed out, trying to sort the rest of it in his head, unsuccessfully. 

Sebastian looked at him for a moment, "Because you needed me."

Roope winced as if he'd just been struck. And truthfully, it would have been more merciful for Sebastian to have taken out his gun and shot him. The words hit him much harder than any bullet ever could. After everything, he was still there when he needed him most. He hadn't expected that. He took in a sharp breath, and then another, but he couldn't get the words to stop echoing in his head, or his stomach to unclench. He forced himself to look at him, but that only made everything worse. "Sepe?" That was all he could manage to choke out.

Sebastian held on to the cool and collected exterior that he'd perfected, but there were very faint cracks starting to form. "Teukka didn't want me to leave. I am on a scouting mission and he came with me. He... _ordered_ me to stay in Raleigh with him. I told him that he could be my lover, or he could be my boss, but he couldn't be both." He took in a deep breath, and Roope heard how his breath caught just a little. "He said he could and _would_ be both. And I _would_ follow orders." Sebastian's voice shook a little more obviously, "But you... _you needed me_. And so, here I am. I know how you can get the messages to Esa."

Roope's eyes widened, but he didn't speak. He _couldn't_ speak. There were so many thoughts racing around his head, overlapping and jumbling together so loudly they echoed, he couldn't think. He picked up the cigarette pack from where Sebastian had tossed it on the couch beside him, followed by the lighter, and took two deep pulls, one after the other, focusing on nothing else but the smoke leaving his mouth. A good part of him wished the narcotic in it was a little stronger than nicotine, but it would have to do for now. Once he felt his heart rate go down enough that he could focus, he looked over to Sebastian. "How?" 

"Me." There was a very slight flash of a smirk. "Esa meets with Teukka two or three times a week. Provided he doesn't kill me when I get back, he usually brings me to the meetings. It's easy enough for me to find a moment when Esa is alone to slip the message to him. I couldn't do it a lot, maybe once a week. Maybe less. I don't want Teukka getting suspicious. He _hates_ the Swedes. If he found out about Esa and Klingberg, he'd shoot them both, and probably me for knowing about it. If I had let you contact him..." He sighed, "We wouldn't be here having this conversation."

"So... _how_ did you find out?" Roope realized his voice came out nearly a whisper, as if being too loud would shatter this dream he was having.

"I need a drink." Sebastian stood, his leg brushing against Roope's as he crossed the room to pick up the room service menu, "Are you hungry?"

Roope watched him, the smoke in the room just added to the hazy feeling, "No, we just ate."

Sebastian hummed disapproval as he looked over the menu. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Roope didn't answer, he was too caught up in watching him, in realizing how much his whole body was _aching_ to reach out and touch him. It was so much worse, so much more painful to be this close to him, than it was to not have seen him. He looked older, of course, worse for wear, but Roope could still see the boy he fell so hard for when they were kids. His eyes were still as warm and rich as they had been back then, even if he tried to hide that, and Roope was glad not to have them on him for a moment. He still could barely breathe, but it eased just a bit. It was short-lived, however, when Sebastian looked over to him, and Roope realized he hadn't answered his question. "No."

"He wants to be." Sebastian looked back to the menu. "I don't care if he is or isn't."

Roope was shocked to hear the lie in his voice. He stood and crossed the room to take the menu out of his hands and toss it aside, " _Sepe_."

He looked away, "I had convinced myself that you wouldn't be there when I got out."

"But I _was_."

Sebastian nodded, "I know. He told me I had to choose. And I owed him so much. He really did save my life. And... _you_ were why I was in there in the first place. Of course I was going to choose him. And his H." He took in a deep breath, absently scratching at the marks on his arm, his eyes on the ground, "But I saw you there. As goddamn beautiful as ever, and I was so fucking... _proud_ that I had taken all of that for _you_. He told me I couldn't have anything to do with you and I knew that was a good thing. I wasn't who I was when I went in, and I only would have brought you down with me. The anger was easier."

"But you came here." 

Sebastian sighed, "Klingberg is dangerous. You don't know how much. The idea of you caught up with _him_..." He shook his head quickly, "I couldn't stand it."

Roope took in a deep breath, "I'm not who I was when you went in either." 

Sebastian's eyes snap up to him at that, "Yes, you are. You _have to_ be." 

In his entire life, Roope couldn't think of any time he had cried. He didn't cry when he was kicked out of his house, or in the aftermath of his first assault, or the first time he flatbacked to be able to afford food. He didn't let himself feel anything when he realized exactly what it would cost them to be 'off the street', or the first time a 'client' beat the shit out of him after they were finished with him. He didn't cry when he staring down at his first murder, or his second. He didn't even cry kissing the love of his life goodbye, or when he walked out of prison into someone else's arms. But in that moment, realizing _why_ Sebastian had done what he did, why he had stayed away, turned his back on him... in that moment, he wanted to cry. He felt the prickle in the corners of his eyes and he couldn't look at him.

"Tell me you're the same. No, tell me you're _better_ now." Sebastian pressed. "Tell me I saved you from all of that."

Roope willed the tears back, but they refused to obey him. He nodded, finally looking over to him, "You did."

Sebastian knew it was a lie, Roope could see that clearly on his face. But he said nothing, instead stepped close against him, sliding his hands to curl in his hair. Roope struggled to keep his eyes open, because no one touched him exactly like that and he'd missed it, craved it more than even he realized. He wrapped his arms around Sebastian's wasit, resting his hands on his lower back. There was too much that needed to be said, he wasn't willing to distract him with any other kind of touch. All the same, it was difficult not to distract himself with the new muscles his hands discovered. 

Sebastian's breath was ragged and shallow, but his eyes were fixed on Roope's. His voice was a whisper, "I couldn't hate you. I _tried._ I tried so fucking hard, I told myself I did. I said I never wanted to see you again, because you meant nothing to me. But it was all a lie. When I got high, I would lay in bed with Teukka and tell him how much I missed you. I think that's why he wanted to get me off the stuff. When I was sober, I kept those thoughts to myself."

Roope was surprised to feel a smile curl the corners of his lips, "You don't have to miss me. Come back to me." 

Sebastian sighed, "It's not that simple. When I was in, he saved my life. He... I owe him. I have a debt to work off." 

Roope's eyes narrowed, "When we joined up, our debts were _cancelled._ He's not fucking giving you another one. I won't let him."

Sebastian tried to pull away, but Roope held tight. He sighed, "You don't know what it was like in there. I was sixteen. I thought our life on the streets was bad, but it was nothing as compared. He claimed me, right away, wouldn't let anyone touch me. But I saw... I saw what they did to other kids my age that came in there alone. They would have done it to me too. He kept me safe. I do owe him. It's my debt."

"No," Roope shook his head as much as he could with Sebastian's hands still tangled in his hair, "It's _my_ debt. You were in there for me. Let me pay it off. Please... let me do this for you. I owe you _everything._ My life. Let me pay you back."

When Sebastian surged forward, pressing their lips together, Roope was surprised, frozen for just a second, before he eagerly returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms tighter, pulling him as close as he could get, opening himself fully to him. The taste and smell of smoke mixed with something indescribably him, filled his senses to the point of overload and still he pressed for more. He had never thought he'd be able to do this again, and he was going to get and give everything he possibly could in the moment.

They were both so wrapped up in the kiss, when Sebastian's phone rang, they both startled. He slowly untangled his hand, to pull his phone from his pocket. He frowned deeply, "It's him." 

"Let me answer it." Roope held his hand out. 

"No! Fuck no. I'm in enough trouble. You'll make it worse. I need to take this." He stepped away, answering the call, "Hello?" He sighed, closing his eyes. "Yes, sir." He listened for a moment, moving the phone just a little away from his ear. "No, sir." More listening lead to Sebastian hanging his head, despite the fact the caller couldn't see it, "Yes, sir." After a short pause, his eyes snapped open and he stared at Roope, wide-eyed, "No! No, sir, I--" He bit hard on his lip to keep himself quiet. He took in a deep breath, "Yes... yes, sir, I understand." He tossed the phone to the table without glancing at the screen, a good indication he'd been hung up on. He never took his eyes off Roope. 

"I know what that look means." He said. 

Sebastian nodded slowly, "I have orders to kill you. Or he'll kill me when I get back."  


End file.
